


i'll shoulder the load and i'll swallow the shame

by ambrolleignsgirl



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: M/M, Summerslam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-06
Updated: 2014-10-06
Packaged: 2018-02-20 03:09:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2412740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambrolleignsgirl/pseuds/ambrolleignsgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*spoiler for summerslam* Dean's alone in the locker room after the match having no choice but to ponder all that happened. The words he yelled, the move he executed, and most importantly, the feelings he had. There was no hiding from those pesky feelings. Especially not after he's no longer alone in the locker room. Ambrollins/Slash/Based solely on Dean's heartbroken look. Rated T</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'll shoulder the load and i'll swallow the shame

Hello again. This is another Ambrollins fic

Based solely off the *SPOILERS FOR SUMMERSLAM*

heartbroken expression on Dean’s face after he curb stomped

Seth into oblivion. It kind of ran away from me, but I hope you like it

Sorry for all the f-bombs…I’m a New Yorker

* * *

 

  _I love you, alright? I love you, brother._ Forehead kiss. Curb stomp. _Fuck!_

 

It’s clear as day in his mind. The wicked lariat turned Seth inside out, but it wasn’t enough to get Dean a three count. His emotions ran high- and far, far away from him- and the next thing he knew, he just _needed_ to tell Seth how he felt. The curb stomp came from that dark place inside of him. The one that ended Regal’s career.

 

 _Oh, he knew what he was getting into_ , Dean thinks waving a dismissive hand at the thought of William Regal, though literally nobody is around to see it. On the other hand, the whole fucking world was around to watch him profess his love for Seth, curb stomp him, then nearly break down in tears. Whether they were tears of joy for finally getting it out, tears of frustration, or tears of exhaustion was something Dean really wasn’t itching to figure out. Instead, he continues pacing back and forth in the locker room pulling viciously at his own hair and doing what Seth once affectionately referred to as his “robot dance.” Dean calls it an anxious tick. The erratic movement of his arms just happen; nothing but a physical manifestation of the emotions running from his fingertips down into his fucking _soul_.

 

Trying to think back, he realizes he even helped Seth pin him. His own body betrayed him, hand guiding Seth into an exhausted lateral press for the three count. It's because deep down, even then, he knew- he fucking _knew_ that he deserved it.

 

He deserved to be pinned for using Seth's move against him, for turning him inside out, for telling him he loves him. He didn’t need to know that. He shouldn’t fucking know it considering their feud has been personal from the get-go. He's notorious for letting his feelings run away from him, but _god fucking dammit_ , he’d screamed it in front of all those strangers. They don’t know him or all he’s been through, or what he and Seth have. Well, _had_.

 

 _Had,_ Dean scoffed internally _. As if I could ever let you go_.

 

He hears quick steps approaching his locker room and turns around.

 

"Ro-" he manages to choke out before being stunned into silence. Samoan Thor isn’t there. Not unless he's two toned now.

 

Darling Seth Rollins is standing there, still shirtless with blood smeared around his mouth, chest heaving.

 

"Seth-" he starts.

 

"No, you shut your fucking mouth, Ambrose!" Seth practically screams, hands coming up to grasp his alarmingly thinning hair. Dean has a moment to ponder where the stupid case is before Seth flies off the fucking handle.

 

"How fucking- how fucking dare you? Who gave you the right to- fucking, fuck you, okay? Fuck you and fuck your face and fuck your feelings-"

 

 _Wait, what?_ _His feelings?_ Dean expected a verbal lashing for trying to curb stomp his head off, but the former Architect is mad about his feelings? What the fuck? "Seth-"

 

"What the fuck did I say?" Seth points a vicious finger in Dean's face after crossing the room in two steps. "Shut your fucking mouth, Ambrose! Just- just-," he stutters. “Just shut up,” is the last thing he says, voice down to a quivering whisper by the end, before he smashes their lips together.

 

It's violent, all teeth and biting and hair pulling. But then again, that's all _they_ are lately. Angry and vicious and cruel. Dean hisses after a particularly sharp bite that breaks the skin of his bottom lip.

 

 _At least they're both bleeding now_ , he internalizes.

 

Seth yanks Dean's head back by his hair looking to claim the skin of his neck. Dean lets out a load groan as his own hands graze past Seth's perfect mid-section to pull their hips together. It's Seth's turn to hiss at the intimate contact. Dean smirks then lets out a satisfied sigh as Seth goes back to biting and licking his way up and down the exposed flesh.

 

Seth's hips start a rhythm all on their own after forcing Dean back into the wall. Dean responds in kind.

 

"See?" Dean gasps out.

 

"See, what?" Seth mutters before claiming his lips once more. It’s slightly less frantic with a little less teeth. Just a bit gentler with maybe a hint of affection.

 

"This- how we fit together, _us_ ," he mumbles in between kisses and hip thrusts.

 

"There is no us."

 

It's like ice water on Dean's head. The fog that settled and blinded him with lust lifted just enough for him to see that Seth was right. There really isn't an “us” for Dean to talk about. Not anymore...not ever, really. He realizes he had to have tensed up because Seth pulls back, releasing Ambrose's wrists from where he had them clasped above Dean's head. Dean vaguely wonders when it had happened and how the hell it had escaped his notice.

 

"Really? We're alone, both obviously into it," Seth forces out in between breaths, gesturing at their obvious erections. His Power Ranger pants certainly weren't made to conceal arousal, "and you choose to reign in your feelings? Not out there? In front of thousands?"

 

It's a valid point. However, contrary to popular belief, Dean wasn't some raging horn dog who'd fuck anything with a pulse. He hadn't been that for a long time. Looking into those chocolate eyes, he can't really even remember a time when he was.

 

But Seth is different- he's Seth. He was the first person who asked Dean about his day and genuinely cared. He was the first person to inquire about his interests. The first to listen just because Dean needed it. The first to cradle his face and whisper soothingly as the waves of panic rippled through his body. His first brother. His first family. His first lo- no. No.

 

"I'm not just here for you to walk all over whenever you wanna get your rocks off," he starts, shoving Seth and falling back into that familiar anger. After all, being angry is easy. It's safe.

 

Seth frowns worryingly, recognizing the twitch in Dean's hands and the increased pace of his breathing.

 

"Dean-"

 

"NO!" He roars. His right hand comes up to slap his own face before tapping lightly it to ease the burn. "You said it yourself, right? You know me better than anyone, right?"

 

"Yes. And I do," Seth answers before stepping back knowingly to give Dean some breathing room. It's bad enough when the walls close in, there's no need to crowd him further. "So what?"

 

"So you should know that this ain't going down like this," Dean gestures wildly. He starts pacing erratically, thumbnail in his mouth as fingers tap on his collarbone. Seth watches being very careful to exude a calm demeanor.

 

"We were brothers, Seth. Brothers! We travelled thousands of miles, closed down bars, and conquered this fucking industry," he lets out. "We beat everyone. Ryback, Punk, Orton, Bryan, _Evolution._ Why did you- what the fuck went wrong?"

 

The real question is crystal clear, left hanging in the electrified space between them. _What did I do wrong?_ Seth ponders how to answer. He has to take Dean's behavior into account. A panic attack wouldn't be ideal right now. He feels a stab of shame when he registers that he has to put some effort into remembering how to pull Ambrose back from the ledge. He's apparently taken too long to answer because Dean continues his rant.

 

He's spitting and cursing and working himself into a breathless rage. Instinct takes over and Seth intercepts his pacing, gloved hands coming up to force Dean's eyes to meet his.

 

"Hey. Look at me- focus." Seth is ready for the struggle, tightening his hands and steadying his stance to stop Dean from jerking away. "Just breathe. Calm down. This isn't the place or-"

 

"This isn't the place?!" Dean cries, "That's the beat you can-"

 

Seth lips cut him off. If words won't work then he doesn't have much of a choice. Don't actions speak louder anyways or something? The kiss is different. Seth makes sure it is. It slow and soft and calm, everything Seth is trying to force Dean to be. Dean struggles a bit before sinking into the kiss with a sigh and settling his hands on Seth's hips once more. Seth pulls away and opens his eyes. A few moments pass before Dean's gaze returns to his.

 

"I just- I can't," Dean starts, flustered and trying to continue his tirade. He finds words, but none of them are _fuck,_ _shit,_ or _assface_. "I love you, I love you, I love you, I-" his voice cracks and breaks off. Just saying the words has squeezed the air out of his lungs. The weight of emotion places a pressure deep in his chest. His eyes burn dangerously so he squeezes them shut. Seth doesn’t acknowledge the two tears that manage to escape and slide down Dean’s face. He just leans in slowly and places a chaste kiss on each eyelid and then one on Dean's lips.

 

"I know, Dean."

 

"You know?"

 

"I do." Seth says putting every emotion he feels into his eyes. If they could communicate without words once upon a time, they can damn well do it again. It’s not exactly what Seth wants to say. He wants to say, you know, the words. _The_ words. But he can’t. He’s surprised actually hearing them from Dean hasn’t sent him running. The sheer thought of it forced two steel chairs into his hands. Maybe it’s about time he stop running. Stop fleeing from his emotions. But after all that’s gone down, is there even a way to get Dean back? To prove he can be Dean’s one and only? To prove he can fucking _stay_?

 

Dean can see it. He can see the love in Seth's eyes no matter how implausible. It doesn't make a lick of sense after weeks at each other's throats, after the betrayal, after everything they've been through. But there it is. And just like back in the day, it's enough to calm the shaking and slow his heartbeat. But he can't help himself.

 

"We were brothers," his whispers, brokenly. "We fought like brothers, stood side by side in battle...we loved like brothers," he finishes with a small smile before dropping his hands to his side.

 

Seth steps back as well.

 

"You were never my brother," is what Seth comes back with, wiping the smile off Dean's face.

 

Seth shakes his head, walking to the door before returning his gaze to Dean's over his shoulder with a small, sad smile on his face.

 

"You were always more."

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading!


End file.
